And then I die
by Madcow5678
Summary: Kenny's thoughts on the world around him , and the people in it. Set during Kenny Dies. No pairings-StuartxCarol if anything. Can be a one-shot, but if anyone wants me to carry it on, then I will


**And then I die**

**A/N: I don't own South Park, all characters used in this fic belong to Matt and Trey. Amd for the record I like The Who and Status Quo. I just doubt Kenny would. Please R&R. Constructive criticism is always welcome**

I lie back in bed, only breathing because of the respirator that is basically doing my body's job for me. I feel so cold, even though the adjustable thermostat next to me reads normal. I know I will die soon. Hell, why am I even surprised? I die all the time. No one has ever cared. Up till now. So it must be serious.

The guys came to see me earlier. Well, Kyle and Eric did. Stan was with them, but he ran out after about a minute. Can't really say I blame him. I don't know how I'd react if one of my friends was dying of a muscular dystrophy.

I don't get why everyone's so upset about me though. Like I said earlier. I die all the time. Quite a lot of the time it's my friends who cause it. Like the time Cartman smashed my face in after he thought he saw a Christina Aguilara bug on my face. Like the time Stan and Kyle didn't care that a grave marker was crushing me to death. Like the time…lots of times. They were still my friends though. Are, should I say. I guess they wouldn't come to see me if they weren't.

Well, Kyle might. He believes in that whole "being nice is it's own reward" crap. Plus he'd be too scared of his mom to say no if she made him. No, he is a nice kid. So is Stan. But Stan won't come to see me. Cartman can be a complete ass-hole and yet he came. He told me that I'm his best friend and that he'll find a cure. He looked as though he was about to cry at any minute. I wanted to cry too. I wanted to throw my arms around him and sob and tell him how scared I am. But Kenny McCormick doesn't cry. Not ever.

Mom and Dad are here now. And Kevin, my brother, and Karen, my little sister. Kevin told me that he tried smuggling in some of the substantial McCormick porn collection, but Mom caught him and screeched at him for half an hour and then yelled at Dad for letting him have the porn in the first place. Also, as Kevin said, you can read porn anywhere except churches, hospitals and the Women's refuge. Shame really though. A good boob-ogling session might have cheered me up.

Karen brought me her teddy bear. Well, originally it was mine, but I gave it to her. I called it Titty. Titty…Bear-geddit? Well, if you think it's a lame joke, blame Kevin.

It was sweet of Karen, I guess, especially since she doesn't have that many toys. She has the teddy, Kevin's old giraffe, which for a reason that escapes me is called Crackerjack, and her doll, which she loves to the point of obsession. It's just a regular cloth doll with yellow wool hair, a red dress and red ribbons with fraying edges but she still carries it around, hugs it, has tea parties with it using Dad's old scotch bottles, sleeps with it in her bed, has a nervous breakdown if it goes missing…. She is only six I suppose.

But when I'm dead, she can have more toys. Mom and Dad will have more money. Well, they'll have to pay for a funeral I suppose, but after that, money probably won't be as tight. They might even be able to send Kevin and Karen to college. If they want to go that is. Kevin probably won't. He likes messing around with cars and trucks and stuff. Which, come to think of it, is why Dad's truck can only go up to 30 miles per hour, has a horn that is so high-pitched that it's practically supersonic and is home to approximately 70 assorted stray cats, which keep breeding in the back and coughing up furballs. I'm pretty sure you don't need a college qualification to wreck people's vehicles.

I don't know about Karen. Whenever any of us asked her what she wants to be when she grows up we got the standard six-year old "I want to be a princess and live in a big castle with a rich, handsome husband who buys me anything I want" answer. To have that, she could just become a whore. I hope she doesn't though. She's too sweet, too pure. Maybe she could become a dancer or something. She's always dancing around, sometimes to no music at all. She is the only one of us who actually likes Dad's old Status Quo and The Who albums. Mom claims they give her a migraine. Me and Kevin just say they are seven shades of shit, which is the truth.

I'm going to go to sleep now. Whether or not I'll wake up is debatable. Goodnight world.


End file.
